Binding Shadows
by 7ShadowsUnleashed
Summary: The Thirteen Court Guard Squads are under attack. With soul reapers dying every night and nowhere to turn, there is little a captain like Toshiro Hitsugaya can do besides fill out the death notices and wait for the assassins to come to him, but what happens when they do? Rated "T" for future chapters.
1. Chapter 1: Blood Bathed in Moonlight

Well hello everyone, 7ShadowsUnleashed is back from the brink with a new story [and long-overdue new chapters for her other stories]. She just wants to say that she has sat on this story for a very long time, but someone finally gave her the nudges necessary for it to wind up here. She hopes that you enjoy and don't forget to leave a review on the way out.

Dedicated to: _akafyi_ [who pushed me into posting this]

**Æ**

Toshiro Hitsugaya pushed his chair away from his desk. The moon was well into its arcing journey across the sky but the thick stacks of documents and the like still dominated his desk.

"No Motsumoto today," he remarked, peering between the tall paper columns in an attempt to see the couch his lieutenant had claimed as her personal napping spot. The relic, leftover from the former Squad Ten captain, may he rest eternal, resembled a pile yellowish of fabric dropped roughly onto a wooden frame, stepped on and left to slowly decompose into the tatami-mat floors. Besides its wretched appearance, the couch was dreadfully uncomfortable: in some places the fabric sagged until you swore you were sitting on the floor while others resembled a rock in all but colour. The couch was an all-together uncomfortable creation unless you were sitting on that suspicious grey stain that covered half of the left side.

_Another reason to toss that couch_, the small silver-haired captain thought. _I'll be taking care of that as soon as I can … if I can ever pry it away from Matsumoto's clingy hands_. Anyone who could take the couch from the dangerous lieutenant would qualify for hero status in the young captain's mind.

The couch was one among many reasons for Toshiro to question Matsumoto's sanity.

Finally finding a minuscule sight-line between the teetering papers, Toshiro had a full view of the empty couch.

_No Matsumoto? It figures that whenever there's work to be done, she's strangely absent … _he mused.

Curling his hand tightly around his pen, Toshiro attempted to work, filling each form with letters and numbers, but his handwriting was losing legibility. Soon he would call it quits for the night.

_What time is it? It has to be after twenty-two …_ he thought, glancing at the silver moon. _Where is Matsumoto? I didn't hear her come back after lunch and it is well past reasonable time to practice. _

He stood, hands planted firmly on the desk for support. _It can wait until morning._

The squad ten captain was a workaholic, and even the most disconnected soul reaper knew it, though Toshiro himself would never admit such atrocity. That being said, the teetering paper pillars were a bit much, even for him. What would create so much work for the captain?

The fact was that an unknown party had recently begun slaughtering soul reapers. The forms the silver-haired captain sat with in under the full moon were death notices.

The assassins struck at night with inherent stealth expected of their kind, their victims found lying on the blood-soaked tatami floor mats in their barrack-turned-tomb, faces turned up towards the ceiling and eyes opened in what would be their final drowsy glimpse at the word before whatever manner of death claimed them.

What had stopped the rumours of a rogue hollow or Arrancar was the cause of death: after the first victim was dispatched with a swift cut across the neck, rogue hollows were ruled out. The clumsy beasts lacked the delicacy and precision to make the cuts, which were at odds with the messy techniques seen in most hollow-soul reaper battles. The second and third victims were strangled with cruel precision and a tightly-woven length of string. Knives did not reappear until the fourth night to deliver the final blow to a strangled victim. It was the first time two weapons were used simultaneously and with it came a unanimous decision among the Thirteen Court Guard Squads: multiple organised killers prowled the Soul Society, taking a soul reaper each night.

So far, the victims were lower-ranking soul reapers, none of whom possessed bankai-level power. The victims were killed late, generally close to or past midnight. Not that Toshiro cared: he planned to be in bed long before the murderers struck. If he had to, he would not sleep until he could look the assassins in the eyes and there was nothing they could do to stop him.

_I dare them to try something,_ he thought, one hand on Hyonrinmaru's hilt. _I dare them to try to harm my division. _

He checked that the windows and blinds were closed before crossing the room, sparing a last glance to the couch to confirm that Matsumoto hadn't fallen asleep and rolled onto the floor while he was trying to finish the still-incomplete documents. Standing in the threshold, he surveyed his office. It looked wrong with the massive stacks of paper hoarding desk and floor space. He had been hitting them hard for hours, filling in the dates, approximate times-of-death, details, and times the victim's belongings would be released to their families, and now he was sick of the grim details.

_Blood on the walls … Handprints … Zanpakutō partially drawn ... _

With the blinds down, the wooden walls and bookshelves encroached in on the little office. Overcome with a bout of claustrophobia, Toshiro turned away.

_It's not my office_, a part of him cried.

Another chastised him. _You'll live. It's just a temporary measure until the killers are caught_.

_Doesn't make it any less of a headache._

A dragon rumbled softly, blowing Toshiro's hair back with its cold breath.

_Sleep now, little one, all will be well._

Toshiro was tempted to tell the bickering sides to shut up, but knew it would only make them louder. He had tried to chase away memories enough times to know that they only came back stronger every time they were chased down. The best thing to do was to let them thrash about his mind until they were too exhausted to continue. He listened to them debate as he pulled off his captain's _haori,_ folding it and placing it on top his dresser. He thought about changing into different robes, but cold wind blowing through a crack in the wall stopped him. He curled up under his blankets, slipper-shod feet tucked into his pant legs as a provision against the encroaching cold.

.:.

"So that's a captain? I'd say he looks a bit like you, Windshadow."

The girl turned. Her fluffy hair, black at the tips but white elsewhere, fell over her glowing green eyes, forcing her to push it back with one hand as she steadied herself on the branch below her feet with the other. Her hair was cut long but choppy, like a short person with scissors had jumped to reach it, snipping when possible.

"I suppose only beautiful things are allowed to come twice," she mused. "That is nature's way, after all. I suppose it is fitting that we see no one resembling you, Leafshard."

Leafshard leaped forward and grabbed the small girl by the shoulder. Turning her to face him, he growled, "I can see why you always work alone." Softening his tone, he continued on. "I'm working with you only because they told me to. I could easily manage this job with my team …"

"You would be caught and your team sentenced to death. Last night would have been your last if not for me" Windshadow whispered. Pausing to turn and watch the silver-haired captain through the window, she asked, "Is he next?"

Leafshard fingered a piece of his long, smoky grey and black patched hair. "I can't say I've decided yet."

"Aren't we indecisive?" Windshadow leaned against a tree, looking back at her comrade where he stood on the roof of a neighbouring house. "Well, choose quickly before the team gets here and life gets hectic."

Leafshard smiled, the tip of his tongue flicking between barbed teeth. "I just chose."

**Æ**

Well, how was it? I know the cliffhanger is pretty cruel, but that was where I decided to cut off the chapter. There are ten or so more pages in Microsoft, but those are for later, when I come back to update.

Now, I would just like to say a few words, with the first and foremost being a "thank you" to you for reading this. I don't care whether you praise me or throw fire and knives my way, but I do care what you have to say. Please tell me what you think: it helps me write better and faster, and I read and reply to every review I receive.

Well, that is everything I have for now, but there is more to come. I promise. I know I am not the most reliable updater around [massive understatement], but that is one of the perks of being fifteen years old: the time I have has to go everywhere, first and foremost to school, then to this. I promise to be more reliable in the future, though, so do not worry: I believe we are done with the annoying month-long waits.

Again, thank you for reading and do not forget to review!

Really, it helps me write more for _you._

- 7ShadowsUnleashed


	2. Chapter 2: The Powerful Brought Low

Well, I am back for a long-overdue second instalment. I understand that the chapters are short now, but they will get longer once I delve deeper into the story line.

Thank you to akafyi, who read this over, changed some things, and pushed me out of the rut I was stuck in for the past few weeks.

Last I know, I do not own _Bleach_. I only own my characters, the bizzare-o-land plot for this story [it's coming ...], and this laptop. *checks statistics on the computer* No, _Bleach _still belongs to Mr Tite Kubo.

Written by: 7ShadowsUnleashed  
Posted: 12 April, 2014

**Æ**

Two halves of a zanpaku-tō blade fell to the road moments before their black-shrouded master followed, clattering impossibly loud as they settled in the ridges between flat cobblestones. The body hit the walkway with a muted _thud_ and rolled into the shadow of the Squad Eleven barracks a half-second later, joining its companion in the cold shadows beneath the wall.

.:.

They thought they had landed soundlessly on the roof, but the fools should have known better: two soul reapers could never move soundlessly. What set two men apart from the silent night — be it the swish of their robes, the slightest clatter of their zanpakutō within their sheaths, their feet scraping the tiles, or possibly a combination of all three — made no difference in the manner in which they now lay, or it might have made every difference in the world.

It is surprisingly difficult to ask a dead man why he died, even if you are in the Soul Society.

_No matter,_ Leafshard reassured himself. _No one heard them fall._

He looked over his team once more. "We kill once more tonight," he told them. "No more." **  
**

"Please note that 'kill' means _kill_. No maiming. I don't want to clean up after you again." Windshadow flickered as she moved. Her fluffy white hair danced around her, every delicate silver strand growing longer, thicker, and splitting into tiny offshoots. She shook her head, the feathers swishing gently in the breeze. Her fanged mouth, flickering tongue, inhuman green eyes … everything winked in and out of existence like a photograph under a strobe light.

"Shall we?" she looked to Leafshard for this answer.

The yellow-eyed youth turned his back to her to hide his childish grin, "Don't let me see you lag behind, little cat."

She scoffed, a sly grin splitting her lips "Don't worry: you won't see me at all." **  
**

.:.

The busty lieutenant of Division Ten, Rangiku Matsumoto, woke the moment shadows hopped through the shaft of moonlight spilling into the dark office — something that must have been pure luck.

Trapped in the final spider-threads of a hangover, the woman blinked a few times to see if the pale shades were lingering traces of a dream—not that she remembered any of the stories her subconscious mind had concocted that night — given they were gone in a flash, leaving only the curtains swishing in the light breeze.

_What was that?_The orange-haired woman wondered. Memories of the recent murder reports surfaced in her somewhat sober state; it made her paranoid. _Maybe I should check on the squad._

She stood and walked down the hall, knocking on each door as she went down the long hallway, and flicking off a stray light switch here and there.

_Everything seems good so far._

It seemed so, until she came across the apartment she shared with the captain.

Hand on the doorknob, she slowly opened the door, only to find an abyssal darkness spread before her — every light snuffed out.

_That's strange._ She thought. _Captain always leaves the light on in the hallway._Should she stumble while some-what sober—like now—and actually plan on brushing her teeth or taking a shower, Hitsugaya always left the light on to illuminate her path — always.

Matsumoto began walking slowly down the hallway towards her bedroom, feeling her way along the inner wall as if she were blind.

"Captain, are you awake?" she called. "I'm ba-"

Cold hands wrapped around her neck, pulling her down to the floor on her knees. The lieutenant fought for a startled breath, gasping for air as she tried to loosen the fingers wrapped around her throat.

"Do not breathe a word," a soft voice warned—kind of ironic for the situation at hand. "I would prefer not to kill you, but, if you cause trouble, I can easily go back on my words"

"Who … are you …? Where's …?" her voice trailed off as the hands tightened around her throat, cutting off her air supply.

" 'Where's …' the captain? I am guessing? Don't worry, he's fine; nothing will happen to him." The voice sounded ageless, hypnotic, rough, and refined all at the same time — Matsumoto could not place it.

The hands loosened just enough for her to speak. "Then … why are you holding … me hostage like this?"

"Because I have no choice."

The lieutenant was suddenly released from her captor's grasp around her neck and she fell to the ground, gasping for air all the while coughing at the same time. Lifting her head, the strawberry blonde caught a flash of white in the shadows a second before something struck the back of her head and she sank into blackness.

.:.

Matsumoto opened her cerulean eyes to see the white walls of the squad four barracks. She pushed her body into a sitting position, ignoring the throbbing pain in her head as she assessed the situation, trying summarize what she could remember into simple words: someone — presumably female due to the long, narrow fingers she remembers coiling around her throat— had infiltrated the Squad Ten barracks sometime late last night, found her way into the building and had knocked her out. Though the intruder probably had not come alone as she could swear she heard voices drifting down the halls.

Her head began pounding from the effort of trying to sort out all of this information. _Calm yourself. You can sleep when you know Captain is all right._

She wasn't positive, but there was this gut-wrenching feeling inside her telling her that her captain was injured … where was her faith in the youngest member of the Gotei Thirteen?

_He's okay, I know he is. He's Captain Hitsugaya: he would never fall victim to anyone._

That sounded better.

Voices could be heard outside her door along with the opening and closing of others, as well as the scuff of slippers on the tatami mat floors.

Then the door to her room suddenly opened and in walked the leader of the healing division, Restu Unohana."I trust you are well, Lieutenant Matsumoto," she asked in her motherly-sweet voice that made the enemy want to run for cover.

"Captain Unohana," Masumoto bowed as well as she could from her seated position. "What's going on around here?"

The Squad Four captain stopped just before the bed the lieutenant was lying on. "That's what I've come to discuss about with you," she said.

.:.

A soft laugh emitted from Windshadow whom was seated atop a shelf where she was watching their hostage, Squad Ten's Captain, Toshiro Hitsugaya, fall once more to the cold stone floor. His chest heaved with the exertion and his arms remained bent at the same unnatural angles they had fallen to when he awoke.

She had to admit, she was enjoying watching their hard-won prisoner struggle against the insurmountable, but it looked like the fool was going to waste their work by getting himself killed — something she was not in the mood to let slide. It had taken some time to capture him, and Leafshard and his second-in-command, Ledger, still bore the thin cuts from the young captain's escape attempt.

.:.

In her mind's eye, she could still see the mist-laden ridges they had crossed, only the sky standing between them and silver-eyed moon. Below them spread the world, feeling even larger than when one stood within it. To see it spread boundlessly before them, the Grey Squad felt small and insignificant. They wanted to stand there and revel in its beauty forever, to forget their limits and needs under the silver moonlight.

Then their prisoner woke.**  
**

He had been foolish to think he could escape, but capture can change one's mind faster than any other life-and-death situation. The realisation that one's life is not in one's hands but in those of others ... it makes them panic or it drops them, unceremoniously, into a thoughtless depression. Hitsugaya was clearly of the panicking sort, breaking into a cold sweat the moment he opened his eyes, struggling against the soul chains that bound his hands and feet as he tried to draw the sword sheathed and tied behind his back.

He somehow manoeuvred the long blade out of its sheath and cut the soul chains around his legs before using a similar process to free his hands, and took his sword with a childish gleam in his eyes. It was like his pitiful mind had tied the zanpaku-tō blade to his survival. Seeing it now and feeling the familiar silk-wrapped grip beneath his hands, he felt as though he might have a chance.

Just as his hands clasped the hilt, his body was pushed flat against the hard ground.

"So the rumour is true: a Zanpaku-to really can cut through a weaker soul chain." Leafshard whispered, his knee pressed into the white-haired shinigami's back. With his loose, stringy black-and-grey patched hair, the young man passed for an older street rat or an apprentice grim reaper depending on the day's chosen attire. "I was curious about it - concerned as well - so thank you for that little piece of information, little captain." he grinned, curved fangs starkly gleaming against his shadowed face. "I now know how to render you powerless."

The white-haired prisoner gritted his teeth and moved his sword arm back a few millimetres, preparing for something ... anything ... an opportunity to do damage to his captors: even a little would help. _Wait for it, wait for it ..._

He felt the weight on his back shift. Though there was very little - whoever sat on him was clearly a featherweight - he still could not lift himself off of the ground. Something drained him, held him to the ground, but he pushed against it and gathered his strength.

_I will not lie here at your mercy: I am Toshiro Hitsugaya, the youngest captain of the Thirteen Court Guard Squads, and I will not be trumped by the likes of you. I will prove that someone as young as I can be a captain the squads can be proud of. _**_  
_**

He braced his left arm against the stone, pressing the tips of his toes down for purchase, and sprang, throwing the man from his back as he swung Hyorinmaru in a wide arc.

He saw his captors clearly for the first time. The boy he had thrown into the air had landed in a sideways lunge with enough feline grace to scare Yoruichi, one hand pressed flat to the ground and the other balled into a fist and held tightly against his side, stringy black and silver hair falling disobediently across his back and shoulders. He stood with a smirk and dusted off his palms, calmly humming a few bars of "Metric Lips" as he moved to stand before his comrades. A pair of identical girls stood on either side of him, propping themselves on his narrow shoulders. Two men, an older fellow with an apparent limp and a young man with deep brown eyes stood on either side of the girls like a flock gathering behind the lead bird ... a flock of dangerous, predatory, freakishly capable birds.

_Am I really that weak?_Toshiro wondered. _To be beaten by a single man, three girls, and two boys._

"This has to be the greatest insult to my career." the young captain growled. He moved Hyorinmaru to its "ready" position - held vertically at his left side - and waited for them to charge.

"Well, who would have guessed? The prisoner wants a fight." In contrast to his light tone, the boy's burning eyes took a dangerous gleam. "Ledger, Herdra, come with me." The older man and twenty year old followed him. Together, the three males stationed themselves before Toshiro, their eyes carrying the same wicked gleam.

_Evil wood, evil water, and evil flames. _Toshiro met the brown, blue, and fiery eyes as he slowly turned, trying to predict the enemies' movements with little luck. _Why do __**I **__always find the villains?_

The fiery-eyed leader grinned. "Let's not keep him waiting."

.:.

Windshadow shook her head as she watched the prisoner struggling in his cell. He managed to move his arms as he thrashed, screeching as the muscled appendages flopped like dead fish, smacking the stone. She was sure that, even from her perch twenty metres above, she heard his bones crack with each blow.

"He's going to kill himself if he goes on like that," a voice whispered in her ear.

Windshadow jumped, turning to confront her assailant, then she saw him and laughed softly, her arms crossed over her chest. "I didn't hear you enter, Leafshard."

Said man stood at the edge of the pit-cell. "Do you enjoy seeing the powerful brought low, little cat?" he asked. His fiery eyes were two brands burning in the darkness.

Windshadow forced her eyes away from the pit. "I don't know."

"Make him stop thrashing."

The white-haired girl groaned. "It's my day off!" she protested.

The black-haired boy laughed. "Well, Little Cat," he pulled her by the shoulder and threw her off the edge. "You can take a day off when the prisoner isn't in danger of killing himself."

Windshadow shrugged. "It's no fun when I'm not missing something important." She plucked a silver strand from her head and twisted it into a figure eight. _"Kowareta Kaze no Kage_: be my wings."

**Æ**

Well, how did I do? The lacking review count last chapter made me a bit miserable given the number of views this piece had. What am I doing wrong? Right? Is it just "meh?" Is there something you want to see?

What do you think of the Grey Squad? Leafshard? Windshadow?

Please critique so the next chapters will be better [and come faster].

_Kowareta Kaze no Kage_: "broken wind shadow"


	3. Chapter 3: Fractures in Bones and Bonds

I meant to post this chapter around Easter but, clearly, that did not happen. There is no real excuse for my lateness, and I apologise for that.

First off, thank you to my two wonderful reviewers, siriusblack98 [who reviewed both chapters] and no. 1. Your support is so very, very appreciated as I kick this story off. Also, thank you to five people who put this story in either their favourites or their alerts, and the numerous viewers. Every single one of you has my deepest appreciation and, without your messages, views, and reviews, this story would definitely not exist.

Also, thank you to akafyi, who lets me throw ideas at her.

Written By: 7ShadowsUnleashed  
Posted: 2 May, 2014  
Disclaimer: I am not Tite Kubo, therefore, I do not own the Bleach universe. I do own the Grey Squad and the prison, but everything else is Mr Kubo's.

Now, onto the chapter: I hope you enjoy.

Æ

Windshadow longed to soar. It had been months since she had flown in earnest — just her wings and the open sky spread before her — but, for now, she had to settle with diving in and out of the prison cave system, where the air was stagnant and carried the stench of the unclean and stale power. The tastes coating her tongue and the smells clinging to her hair and clothes made her feel as unclean as the prisoners she was guarding. Who in their right mind could enjoy the feeling of wind in their hair when the wind tasted of foul lies and the dead? She longed to unleash her wings and omit the sky, the sun, the moon; not a sporadically–placed lantern perched metres above a human who refused to even look up and appreciate the glory of her five-metre wingspan.

There was a reason she preferred to work alone: so she did not have to accommodate those who could not join her in the sky.

She landed, skidding a good metre and a half before coming to a stop with her hands mere centimetres away from the back of the young captain's head, outstretched to keep her level.

"Work on your landings," he muttered. "You'll end up killing someone before you manage to kill yourself if you keep stumbling like that."

"What makes you such an expert?" she shot back.

"You are not the only one with a pair of wings."

Windshadow pulled her hand back, coiling herself to deliver a blow to insolent rat. "Did you forget who holds the power in this cell, Ice Prince?" she spat. Then she felt it: his reiatsu—how it rolled off of him in waves of cool, liquid power. Just the stray sensation sent shock reverberating through her bones. For the first time, she wanted to break a contract and keep everything—every thin trace, for herself.

Stay strong, she thought, but it was difficult to restrain herself. She licked her lips with her forked tongue and took a moment to study the prisoner who possessed such a tempting reiatsu. He was small, smaller than herself, capped with a tangle of fluffy white hair and piercing turquoise eyes. His pale skin shone in the dark, reflecting the flickering lamplight with the same lustre has his silk kimono once boasted.

"Heh," she turned and picked up the fragile figure eight-twisted silver strand from where it had fallen behind her. "I can't imagine you holding such power."

Toshiro squirmed on the floor, writhing like a snake trapped under a boot. "You don't believe me?"

"No one said I didn't," she said while forming a quick hand sign, muttering an activation phrase under her breath as she threw the figure eight strand in the air and jumped, feeling the wings catch her moments before she hit the floor. Within moments she had flown to the top of the chasm and landed on the ledge; her feet carefully tucked beneath her.

She straightened, staring over the edge, her eyes glinting with a wet silver sheen, and whispered, "I can taste your overflow of power little captain. If anyone wields such power, it is you, but that power might be your—"

The air suddenly throbbed beside her ear. A fist skimmed across her delicate cheekbones, the wrist covered with thin white scars, a silver ring set with a single onyx stone over the white glove. Every detail was assessed in the instant it took for her attacker's hand to pass her face. She knew whose hand tried to deal her harm before momentum carried Leafshard past her.

By the time he turned to face her, she had already played her first card.

.:.

His claws scraped across the stone, blood seeping beneath them and over the tips of his toes. The pain was needle-like as each tiny nail follicle was thrust back and forth with the dips in the rugged stone.

If it wasn't for Windshadow, he would not feel this pain.

He turned to face her, fighting to regain his footing on the narrow ledge and snarling through his curved teeth. "Are you really that ignorant?" his entire body quivered, chest heaving with the exertion, but his words were clear and thick with fury. "You think you can move where you wish and your invisibility will protect you?" He turned in circles, his fiery eyes darkening to red: drops of blood in the inky black shadows cast under his sharp cheekbones.

She narrowed her eyes towards him. "So you have the demon's sight, Leafshard. I honestly can't say that I'm surprised." She said it as if she could care less about his technique, then moved quickly. He whirled around, hands cocked back to catch the girl, but there was nothing there—not that he was surprised.

There was a flicker of movement in his peripheral vision. "There you are …" He crossed the stone between them in an instant, one hand probing the empty space between the ledge and himself while the other was loosely cocked for a blow.

Fabric between fingers ... fingers clasping around a delicate wrist and pulling it closer ... a fist flying through the air, and a body slowly dripping into view as it vanished into the yawning chasm. In barely a second, it was over, but there was still one person standing on the ledge.

The other was falling through space.

.:.

Matsumoto had taken the news stoically, with the expressionless silence of someone already dead. Unohana wanted to remind the woman that she was not a cadaver but a living, breathing person. It truly was a gift that Matsumoto had survived the attack—the bruising around her throat spoke many words—but there was little she could say for fear of sending the lieutenant careening off into the deep end.

It had been hours since the fourth division captain had broken the news to the lieutenant, now the acting captain of the tenth division, and nothing had changed.

Or maybe … everything had.

Æ

That is the shortest chapter I have ever written, but please review and tell me how I did. I have nothing against criticism, and actually welcome it, so feel free to cook me to a crisp if this chapter was not worth your read or I am dragging the same thoughts on way too long for your taste.

Please review, alert, or favourite. Every little number means the world to me and brings the next chapter onto this site much faster. It only takes a few moments to share your thoughts ...

See you next round,

- 7ShadowsUnleashed


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